


Slate

by gutterandthestars



Series: Twelvetide 2020/2021 [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, M/M, Nicolo di Genova is so Done, Not A Lot Of Learning To See Here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutterandthestars/pseuds/gutterandthestars
Summary: Written for the Twelvetide Drabbles Challenge 2020/2021 for the prompt 'slate', for December 25th.***Nicolo di Genova attempts to learn to write Arabic. Joe does not help.***
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Twelvetide 2020/2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095605
Comments: 7
Kudos: 84
Collections: Twelvetide Drabbles 2020





	Slate

“You’re biting your tongue.”

“I am not.”

“You are, and it’s adorable. Let me get my charcoals.”

“I am not, and you will not, and if you attempt to record these moments for posterity I will take this thrice bedevilled device and return it to you in the most painful way I can muster. Sideways.”

“Nicolò, my friend, companion of my heart, my greatest, and only love…” laughs Yusuf.

“No.”

“But…”

“Leave me in my misery Yusuf, I am determined.”

There’s a defeated, pathetic noise from across the small, rented room, and Nicolò looks up from his scrap of slate for the first time. Yusuf is making sheep’s eyes at him. It makes no difference.

“You agreed, it would be prudent if I learned to write in Arabic. So here I am, writing in Arabic. Or trying to. Hell and damnation, I can’t… It hurts! How does it hurt?” He thrusts a sore hand towards Yusuf, raising his middle finger to demonstrate a swiftly healing but very evident blister.

“Let me draw you like this,” begs Yusuf, laughing. 

“Angry and sweating and frustrated?” sniffs Nicky.

“As you were when I met you,” returns Yusuf, with such wistful fondness Nicolò turns and raises an eyebrow. Yusuf is crazy.

“Ah yes, a moment so worth remembering,” says Nicolò, skeptically.

“How could I ever forget?” replies his love, achingly sincere. 

_ Goddamnnit,  _ thinks Nicolò, and sets aside his slate and his chalk. “Well I can’t concentrate with you staring, and mooning, and looking at me _like that_ , so whatever happens now, know that it is your fault.”

Yusuf leans back against the pillow and laces his fingers together behind his head.

“Do your worst, your best, your anything Nicolò,” he smirks. “I will take whatever you have to give me.”

“By God, you will,” promises Nicolò, and flings himself across the room to make good on his word.


End file.
